Chapter 32
Iturn the Sovereign’s Crown slowly in my hands, watching the intertwined silver catch the morning light streaming through my windows.
It’s lighter than I expected when I first lifted it from the maze’s pedestal – not the heavy burden I’d imagined, but an object that feels alive with its own quiet energy.
Fragments of crystal and diamond glitter across it, mimicking the orbits of our solar system.
This isn’t the crown of a tyrant, forged to intimidate and dominate. It’s a symbol meant for someone who leads through connection rather than fear.
The crown grows warm in my palms, and for a moment I could swear I feel something responding to my touch … not magic exactly, but recognition. As if it knows I’m still deciding whether I’m worthy of wearing it.
I set it on the nightstand and move to the window, restless.
My body feels strange this morning. Calm, but in a way that makes me uneasy.
The constant tremor in my hands has stopped.
The nausea that’s been my companion for days has faded.
Even the hollow ache in my chest – the one that screams for the next healing, the next touch – has quieted to a whisper.
Zevran came last night after the maze. I was shaking so badly I could barely stand, withdrawal clawing at my insides. He didn’t ask permission, just pressed my hands to his shoulders and let me work.
I’d slept after that. Really slept, for the first time in days. No nightmares. No waking every hour to withdrawal symptoms. Just deep, dreamless rest.
Now, in the morning light, I can feel the craving starting to build again.
Faint but insistent. A reminder that whatever calm I feel was bought, not earned.
I gave Zevran relief, but I took something for myself too.
We’re bound together by need now, codependent in a way that should terrify me more than it does.
I remember the way his hands felt on my skin, the heat of him. It’s dangerous … all of it. The addiction, the attraction, the way we keep finding excuses to touch each other. But standing here in the quiet morning, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
A knock at the door breaks my reverie.
“Come in,” I call, expecting Ren.
Instead, Astrid bursts through, still in her sleep clothes, dark hair escaping its braid. Her eyes are bright with barely contained energy.
“Finally,” she says, shutting the door behind her. “Do you know how hard it’s been waiting for you to wake up? I’ve been pacing the corridor for an hour.”
I can’t help but smile. “Good morning to you too.”
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me. Tell me everything.” She crosses to where I stand by the window and grabs my hands. “The maze. The trial. I heard you walked through it with your eyes closed?”
“Well … only the last part of it.”
“Are you crazy?” She squeezes my hands, hard. “Through a maze full of things trying to kill you?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
She makes a sound between a laugh and a sob, then pulls me into a fierce hug. I hug her back, breathing in the familiar scent of her – herbs and soap and home. For a moment I’m six again, clinging to my sister after a nightmare, certain that nothing bad can happen as long as she’s here.
I tell her about entering the maze, about the mirrors showing memories and possibilities.
About choosing the right path – truth and loss – because I wanted to be a different kind of leader than my father.
About watching Solric transform from grieving boy to addicted tyrant, seeing the exact moment love corrupted into obsession.
Astrid listens without interrupting, but I see her flinch when I describe seeing Mother young and terrified, one hand on her pregnant belly.
“She loved him,” I say quietly. “Before everything went wrong. She really loved him.”
“I know.” Astrid moves to sit on the edge of my bed. “That’s what makes it worse, isn’t it? That he was capable of love once.”
I nod and keep going. Tell her about the mirrors turning on my team, forcing them to relive their parents’ deaths. Lord Castor watching his mother and father poisoned. Lord Evander hidden in the library gallery while soldiers murdered his parents. Lady Nerida’s parents drowning in their own palace.
“And you had to watch,” Astrid says softly. “Watch them watch it.”
“Yes.” My throat tightens.
“But they still helped you.”
“They did.” I move away from the window, too restless to stand still. “We fought the mirror creatures together. Both teams. And when I said I needed to walk blind to reach the crown, they guided me. Kept their hands on my shoulders the whole way. Protected me.”
Astrid stands and comes to me, gripping my shoulders. “Because you earned it. Not by being perfect, but by being honest.” She shakes me slightly. “Do you understand that? You chose truth even when it hurt. You made yourself vulnerable. That’s why they helped.”
She releases me and starts pacing, the way she always does when she’s thinking strategically. “You’ve won over your team. That’s huge. But you still need the other House leaders’ support if you’re going to have any real power after this Conclave.”
I lean against the bedpost, watching her move. “I’ve connected with most of them. Zevran and Isolde will definitely support me. Lord Castor, Lady Tavia, and Lord Evander will too. Lady Nerida...” I trail off. “Lady Nerida is cryptic but supportive, I think.”
Astrid stops pacing. “What about Commander Kaelix?”
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to the Commander,” I admit. “They’re brilliant but prickly. And they were accused of providing the override tech for my assassination attempt. That’s … complicated.”
“But Uranus is crucial.” Astrid chews her lip, thinking. “They control the most advanced technology in the system. If you want any real influence, you need their support.”
“I know.” I push away from the bedpost and move to the wardrobe, opening it just to have something to do with my hands. “I don’t know how to approach them. They’re not like the others. I can’t just walk up and start a conversation.”
“What about tonight?”
I turn to look at her. “Tonight?”
“There’s a masquerade ball.” Astrid’s expression shifts to concern. “In the observatory gardens. All the Houses will be there.”
My stomach drops. “I had no idea.”
“The Cardinals only announced it this morning. Very last minute.” She comes to stand beside me at the wardrobe, pulling out a formal gown and examining it critically.
“It’s supposed to be neutral ground for mingling before the final trial.
Really, it’s just another arena. Politics in pretty clothes. ”
“I don’t know how to navigate something like that.” I furrow my brow, suddenly losing confidence. “I’ve never been to a formal ball. I don’t even know how to dance properly.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Astrid puts the gown back and pulls out another. “You walked blind through a death maze yesterday. You can handle some dancing and small talk.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?” She looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “Both require trust. Both require reading people and responding to what they need. You’re better at this than you think.”
I want to believe her. But the thought of navigating a ballroom full of masked strangers while trying to make political connections makes my hands start to shake again.
“Maybe you’ll get an opportunity with Commander Kaelix there,” Astrid continues, still sorting through gowns.
“Maybe.” I don’t sound convinced.
Another knock sounds at the door. Sharper this time, businesslike.
“That’ll be Ren,” Astrid says, turning from the wardrobe. “I should go anyway. Let you get ready. I’ll come back to help with any final touches.”
Astrid heads for the door, then slips out just as Ren enters. She’s already in her formal guard uniform – black with silver accents, weapons concealed but present – with a rolled map under one arm.
“We need to talk about tonight,” she says without preamble.
“The ball?”
“Yes.” She moves to my desk and spreads the map across it. “The Cardinals announced it this morning. Very convenient timing, very little notice. Which means they’re up to something.”
I come to stand beside her, looking down at the detailed layout of the observatory gardens. Terraced levels, hidden alcoves, too many entry points.
“What do you think they’re planning?” I ask.
“I think they’re creating opportunities.” Ren’s finger traces the various pathways through the gardens. “For alliances to form. For conflicts to escalate. For people to reveal their true intentions when they think they’re hidden behind masks.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It is.” She looks up at me, ice-blue eyes steady. “Lady Cyra … I don’t think they want to relinquish power after all. I think they’re trying to find ways to prove there is no one contender fit to rule, and that they should remain in charge.”
I blink. “That … that actually makes a lot of sense. Their lax security, their need to control their image every chance they get…”
“Which is why we need a plan,” Ren points to the weak spots on the map. “You’ll be exposed all night – politically, physically. Anyone who wants to make a move against you will have perfect cover.”
“Comforting.”
Her mouth almost quirks into a smile. Almost. “I’ll be shadowing you the entire time. Close enough to intervene, far enough to not be obvious about it.” She turns back to the map. “And there’s something else we need to discuss.”
The shift in her tone makes my pulse quicken. “What?”
“Lord Lucien.”
The name falls between us like a stone in still water.
“You think he’ll be there,” I say.
“I know he will be.” Ren’s jaw tightens.
“Hundreds of people, masks and costumes, perfect cover for observation.” She pauses.
“Perfect cover for confrontation, too. If Lord Lucien approaches you, listen to what he has to say. But don’t trust him completely.
We need to figure out what his motives are for protecting you. ”
“And you?”
“I’ll be watching. Always.” As she moves to roll the map back up, her hand brushes mine, making my heart jump into my throat. “But you need to be careful. The Cardinals are losing control and they know it. That makes them dangerous.”
“More dangerous than masked assassins and shadow lords?” I quip.
Her perfect lips twitch at the corners. “Different kind of dangerous. The kind that comes from desperation and fear of losing power.”
She finishes securing the map, stepping back and putting professional distance between us again. But the air still feels electric.
“Get ready,” she says, voice returning to its usual controlled tone. “The ball starts at sunset.”
Then she’s gone, the door closing softly behind her, leaving me standing in the sudden quiet of my room with my heart racing and a desperate need to see her smile.
I move to the window, needing air, needing to think.
The crown pulses softly on my nightstand.
Outside, the arena is already preparing for tonight’s festivities.
Lights being strung through the observatory gardens, platforms being assembled for musicians, hundreds of masks being distributed to delegates who will dance and scheme and plot under cover of celebration.
And somewhere in that crowd will be Lord Lucien, watching from the shadows.
Somewhere will be Commander Kaelix, the last House leader I need to win over.
Somewhere will be the Cardinals, desperate and dangerous.
Yet through it all, Ren will be shadowing me, protecting me, risking everything for reasons she hasn’t quite named.
I turn away from the window and face the wardrobe where Astrid left several gowns laid out. Time to become someone who belongs at a ball. Someone who can navigate politics and masks and hidden intentions.
A cheerful voice rings through the half-open door before I can move.
“Darling, are you decent? We have a queen to create.”